Upside Down in Venice
by The Sainted Physician
Summary: <html><head></head>The amusing, romantic, and tragic tale of how the Doctor came to owe Casanova a chicken. Because the idea of David Tennant kissing Paul McGann kissing Matt Di Angelo is sexy beyond all comprehension.</html>
1. Chapter 1: A Little Misunderstanding

**Upside Down in Venice**

_The amusing, romantic, and tragic tale of how the Doctor came to owe Casanova a chicken. Because the idea of David Tennant kissing Paul McGann kissing Matt Di Angelo is sexy beyond all comprehension._

* * *

><p>This fic contains massive amounts of fluff, wonderful instances of sexy sex, and enough pain and tragedy to practically qualify as darkfic. Because that's what Casanova and the Eighth Doctor Adventures have in common.<p>

So, the Doctor (played by Paul McGann) and Fitz (played for Big Finish by Matt Di Angelo) are between Parallel 59 and Shadows of Avalon, during what I personally refer to as their "honeymoon." There are no spoilers at all for the EDAs, though I suppose you should know that between these two books, the Doctor drops off his awesome, if bitchy, companion Compassion on Earth to find herself. And during that time Fitz and the Doctor go on a few adventures of their own, mostly undocumented, but including one where the Doctor wears blue eye shadow for some reason. I suppose a prequel to this that is only referenced very distantly is my previous multidoctor novella This Tangled TARDIS, which I'll shameless plug here.

Oh, and the title is from a song Fitz sings in EarthWorld. There's no official lyrics, but lucia_tanaka on LJ, came up with some great ones in her fic Come to Me with Remedies, which I will also shamelessly plug because it is beautiful and tragic and everything I love.

I have to admit, this story has been percolating in my head for many months, but last night I watched Casanova and was so very inspired to finally write this! Further inspiration for this fic comes from Paul Magrs' beautiful audio The Stones of Venice, which this doesn't reference at all except in that Eight goes off on these tangents about why he loves Venice so much. And of course from the Eleventh Doctor episode The Vampires of Venice, in which Eleven recalls the aforementioned chicken which he owes Casanova.

Oh, and I don't own Doctor Who, or Casanova!

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><p>Chapter 1: A Little Misunderstanding<p>

The Doctor watched him, wearing a coy little smile. How the hell did he always manage to look so bloody gorgeous in the mornings, especially considering he slept so little? Fitz could never understand it.

For his part, Fitz felt as though something had crawled into his mouth and died at some point in the night, he was certain his unkempt hair was sticking up in all directions, and all he wanted to do was escape and take a long, satisfying piss. And maybe brush his teeth afterwards.

But the Doctor was trailing the tips of his cool, slender fingers across Fitz's bare torso. It was damn distracting.

"Morning, you," the Doctor said in a rather flirty voice.

"It's too bloody early," Fitz said, tempted to turn around and pull the blanket over his head, but dissuaded by those long, delicate hands.

"Oh, come on, the morning's the best part of the day!" the Doctor pouted.

Fitz guessed it couldn't be all bad if it meant waking up to the Doctor in one of his chipper moods. After they'd both woken up bloody and bruised as if from a nightmare, the Doctor had refused to talk about what might or might not have happened. Instead, he'd taken to brooding in the quiet corners of the TARDIS for weeks now. Fitz had begun to hate the sound of him and that bloody violin. The devastating sadness of the music that drifted through the TARDIS while he played had left Fitz weeping on more than one occasion. It was almost enough to make him consider suggesting they pick up Compassion from her little "exploration of her inner humanity," as the Doctor put it. Almost, but not quite.

And of course, a distant, moody Doctor definitely put a damper on his sex life. Until Fitz finally had the bright idea to drag him on a picnic in the butterfly room, and after playing him a few new songs, and plying him with several bottles of ginger beer and champagne, the Doctor had ultimately succumbed to Fitz's irresistible charms.

Hence his own nearly crippling hangover and the Doctor's infuriating cheerfulness were somewhat mollified by the wonderful memory of shagging his best friend over and over again while he repeatedly chanted the name Fitz like a mantra. One of the many Doctorish habits that Fitz found consistently endearing.

Fitz finally smiled back at the Doctor, which he seemed to take as an invitation to trail tender little kisses all over his face, and down his neck. By the time that teasing, playful mouth reached his chest, Fitz had forgotten about his hangover.

"Mhmm," he moaned, running a hand through the Doctor's soft bouncy curls. His perfect chestnut hair always made Fitz feel like the before shot in a shampoo commercial. Which was ironic, considering they usually used the same shampoo.

The Doctor trailed his cool, wet tongue over Fitz's erection. He gasped, shuddering with pleasure. Then, to his utter disappointment, the Doctor suddenly sat up and grabbed Fitz's shoulders.

"Bloody tease," Fitz muttered.

"You know…" he began, all smiles and excited. "Last night I realized that we've never been to Venice!"

And before he knew it, Fitz and the Doctor were scrubbed and clean and dressed for the era in velvet and silks. Well, Fitz was, the Doctor always dressed like a Victorian prat so he fit in as usual. But he did tie his long hair up in a little ponytail with some black string.

After drinking some strong, sweet coffee and consuming more fancy pastries with names he couldn't properly pronounce than was absolutely wise in a city where the main form of transportation involved wobbly little boats, Fitz and the Doctor were relaxing, casually arm in arm, as a gondolier maneuvered them through the narrow, crowded canals. Fitz was having a hell of a good time.

"So where are we going?" Fitz asked, and sighed with something approaching content.

"Metaphorically or geographically?"

Fitz chuckled. "Philosophically, of course!"

"Lunch," the Doctor said distantly, with a sad little smile. "Romana once asked me that…"

Fitz let him trail off, knowing from long experience that nothing good ever came of questioning him when he spoke with that melancholy sort of wistfulness in his voice.

A streak of red coat caught Fitz's eye, a tall, skinny bloke was running across one of the ubiquitous narrow bridges that passed overhead. With a shock, he realized the man had suddenly leapt through the air, a manic smile on his face. Laughing.

He landed shakily on his feet at the edge of the gondola, grinning like a moron, his huge blue eyes darting from Fitz, to the Doctor, to the increasingly agitated Gondola driver. His long silk jacket was finely embroidered, the high silver waistcoat intricately worked with tiny glass beads, his burgundy and black cravat tied in a little bow, and his high-collared black shirt ended with long frills that trailed over his delicate hands. Poncey in a beautiful way.

"Hello, gentlemen, I imagine that you'd be understandably upset by my sudden arrival, but I can only beg your compassion, as I seem to have upset a local innkeeper over a little misunderstanding regarding his daughter," he said in a great rush of words. "And possibly his wife."

"No, not at all," the Doctor said, extremely amused.

"I am most gracious for your kindness!" he replied, dropped to the bottom of the gondola, and hid under his red coat.

And that was how the Doctor and Fitz met Giacoma Casanova.

* * *

><p>Venice. The Doctor had always loved Venice. Impossible, preposterous, beautiful, sinister Venice. Decaying from the moment it was built. Sinking deeper into the water year by year, kept alive for centuries on the promise of memory and romance alone.<p>

Reminded him of himself in this incarnation.

He touched the worn grey stone, trailing his hands over the bumpy surface, practically tasting the history pouring from every molecule. It was glorious.

Night had begun to fall, staining the city red. It almost seemed like the canals were suddenly running with blood, reflecting the sunset on and on through the desolate side streets they were currently prowling.

Just ahead of him walked the human being he had recently fallen so desperately in love with, and another human being who's memoirs took up an entire shelf of his library. Original additions he'd carefully collected across several lifetimes. An adventurer, a rebel, and a charlatan with an almost mystical understanding of the human condition. And someone he'd always wanted to meet.

Fitz and Giac seemed to be getting along perfectly, but then, Fitz always made friends so easily. He smiled at the sudden burst of affection he felt. Then he stepped forward and placed an arm on each of their shoulders.

"So, are you two still planning on gambling the night away?" the Doctor asked in an indulgent tone.

"Yeah, we're supposed to be meeting his mate Rocco at this card game in the basement of some theater."

"That sounds absolutely lovely! Which one? I hope we'll be in time to catch a performance."

"Never fear, my friend, the evenings run late at the Teatro San Cassiano," Giac said, matching the Doctor's wide, excited grin.

The Doctor actually squealed and clapped his hands, dashing ahead only to spin around and face them, taking a few steps backwards as he spoke. "What are we waiting for? Come on, you two! Adventure awaits!"

It was an incredible experience—enjoying an original opera by an obscure composer he'd never heard of, holding hands with Fitz in the darkened theater, snickering at the droll comments Giac kept whispering in his ear. And afterwards, they joined the cast at a party in one of the basements, surrounded by costumes, the dank smell of the water lapping just below drifting through the air. Musicians played impromptu performances just for the sheer joy of it. Wine and liquor flowed freely, the spread of appetizers was absolutely tantalizing, and yes, at the corner they found Rocco at a table playing cards.

As Fitz proceeded to get quite drunk and flirt with every single actress and musician, the Doctor played several rounds of faro and handily won all of Giac's money.

"It seems you're reputation as a gambler has been quite exaggerated," the Doctor said mildly as Rocco teased Giac about his many losses that evening.

"Yeah, there's a lot about Giac that get exaggerated," Rocco said with a laugh.

The party had begun to wind down, just a dozen people drifting around lazily, drinking, playing quinze, chatting amiably as a single cellist improvised a slow song. Fitz sat with a girl in the corner, slouching, smoking a cigarette. A beautiful anachronism, wherever he went. He loved that about him.

"Yes, well, you wouldn't be the first person to become more charming in the retelling," the Doctor said absently, still watching Fitz with a little smile.

"How dare you!" Giac said with mock affront. "I'll have you know that the tales spread far and wide about my wit and charm are all quite true. Very few can resist me."

The Doctor rolled his eyes and looked back at Giac, pursing his lips for a moment before he spoke. "I can think of one, at least," the Doctor replied.

"Oh, I can seduce anybody," Giac said rather smugly, gesturing with his hands. "A natural gift, you see? An excess of charisma. Quite out of my control, it simply emanates from me."

And he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the Doctor's thighs for a moment. "I'd wager even you couldn't resist me if I made the effort. In fact, I'd gladly place a bet on it."

"Well, what would you have to bet me with? I believe I've already won all your money."

"Rocco?" Giac said, leaning back and crossing his arms.

Rocco gave Giac an exasperated look. "You already owe me 18 zecchini."

Giac have an exaggerated, pained hiss. "Bollocks. That much?"

He shrugged, and chuckled.

"Well, let's see…" Giac began. "Now, what exactly do I have that I could offer a gentlemen such as yourself?"

The Doctor laughed, "I wouldn't exactly be a gentleman if I excepted such a scandalous wager at all!"

Fitz returned at that moment, and handed the Doctor a snifter of amaretto as he downed half of his drink in one gulp. "A scandalous bet? Count me in."

"I'm afraid dear Giac doesn't have anything to bet with," the Doctor said, suddenly unsure of exactly what he was getting them into.

He idly wondered if Fitz had thought to bring his wallet, which the Doctor usually slipped a few condoms into as a general rule, due to the high probability that his rather philandering lover might find himself in one amorous encounter or another during their various adventures. Then he remembered that one panel from Histoire de Ma Vie showcasing Giacoma Casanova and a friend blowing up condoms like they were balloons as three ladies in various stages of undress watched on in amusement. And he laughed so hard he practically fell off the chair.

"Don't tell me you're drunk," Fitz said, catching the Doctor's drink with surprising dexterity, considering how much he was slurring his words.

The Doctor didn't quite end up on the floor as he tried to control his giggles, but it was a very close thing.

"Oh! I just remembered!" Giac exclaimed, turning to his friend with a smile. "Rocco, do we still have that chicken the Widow Battargia sent us the other day?"

"The live chicken that I told you I'd kill if it woke me up just one more time?"

"That's the one!"

The Doctor almost fell out of his chair laughing again, barely managing to speak. "You want to wager a chicken on my capacity for sexual restraint!"

Fitz had been in the middle of draining his amaretto, and spluttered liquor all over himself.


	2. Chapter 2: The Sort of Music You Play

Chapter 2: The Sort of Music You Play

Warning! There is quite a lot of very sexy sex all over this chapter. And maybe a saucy duet.

xxx

After enjoying a long, wonderful party with pretty girls and live music, Fitz was drunk. Perfectly, gorgeously out of his head. In Venice. And the Doctor was flirting with Giacoma Casanova.

Fitz was trying not to feel weird about it. Although he couldn't figure out why it suddenly felt like such an effort. The Doctor was always a flirt, of course, in that charmingly oblivious way he had, and Fitz, the chivalrous pervert, was in no position to talk. They had a deal, an understanding. As the Doctor put it at the time, "I'd never want to cage you."

He just hadn't realized until now that probably meant both ways. And yeah, they'd already shagged a few people together, but that had been different. Fitz had wanted it, had instigated it, had always assumed the Doctor was merely indulging him by making his impossible adolescent threesome fantasies come true. Suddenly the idea that the Doctor could be seriously attracted to someone else was really hitting home, and Fitz felt a lot less special.

And it definitely wasn't because he was jealous. Definitely, absolutely, no bloody way.

He could count on one hand the number of blokes he'd shagged, and on maybe two the number he'd even fancied, whether he'd admitted it to himself at the time or not. And considering he fancied practically every girl he'd ever met, that was saying a lot. But this Casanova guy, there was something to him. Something magical. And the Doctor had noticed.

All right, yeah. So maybe he was a little jealous.

He distracted himself by staring at the city at night. Even this late, light spilled from many of the windows, onto the streets. Reflecting off the canals, like stars spread across the water.

He noticed a shadow on the other side of the canal, something moving quick down the alley. He had enough experience with trouble to recognize it in an instant.

"Doctor," he said in a serious tone.

The Doctor turned to him instantly, following where he was pointing.

"That looks like blood," the Doctor said.

A scream echoed.

"Come on!" the Doctor said, and ran over to the next bridge in an instant, Fitz, Giac, and Rocco following in his wake.

Fitz finally felt in his element, dashing off after the Doctor on some mad rescue mission. He actually laughed, running through Venice at night. Blood on the streets and the Doctor at his side. Trying not to think about the fact that disaster and danger had come to feel so disturbingly familiar.

They came to a skidding stop at an intersection, the Doctor shushing them as they approached.

In the distance, Fitz saw a creature. At least, it couldn't have been anything human. It stood on four legs, and Fitz thought he saw dark fur and scales, but it was so dark he couldn't be sure.

The Doctor began to approach it, Fitz following close behind.

"Are you mad?" hissed Rocco, hiding behind the bend in the street.

"Yeah," Fitz whispered. "But we have lots of experience with madness."

The Doctor shushed him, but it was too late. The creature had spotted them. It looked up, six red eyes blinking, then with a cross between a yowl and a screech, it leapt into the canal and disappeared.

"Magnificent," the Doctor sighed, staring at the still water that left no sign of the monster lurking in its depths.

"What was it?" Fitz asked.

"You know, I have no idea," the Doctor replied, smiling up at Fitz. "I love it when that happens."

"Do you love it when this happens as well?" Rocco asked from behind them, sounding grim.

Fitz and the Doctor turned around to see Giac bent over a Figure hidden in the shadows. "He's dead," he said, sounding horrified.

Just then, they heard a clatter of boots, the murmur of angry voices.

"It's the night guard!" Rocco said, and grabbed Giac's hand. "Run!"

The Doctor lingered for a moment over the body, a young bloke, maybe in his 20s, his fine satin clothes soaked with blood. The Doctor closed the dead man's eyes, then stood up.

"We have to stop it, of course," the Doctor remarked, rather casually considering the situation.

The guards clattered down the street, holding lanterns aloft.

"Doctor," Fitz warned.

"Yes, I do believe a hasty retreat might be the best option," he said, shielding his eyes from the sudden brightness.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

Fitz took the Doctor's hand, and together they fled into the night.

xxx

Giac's flat reminded the Doctor of Venice itself—utterly romantic, and falling apart. He absolutely loved it. It was cramped and cluttered and the walls were draped in moth-eaten velvet, with the slight smell of the tannery below subtly permeating the air, merging with the ever-present scent of candles and canals. It was a decedent sort of chaos, the shelves crammed with books on every topic, in three different languages, alongside curious mystical talismans and what looked like a rather complicated chemistry set. A desk was stacked with even more books and curios, as well as a dusty viola, an immaculately maintained violin, and an old, battered lute.

Of course. He'd almost forgotten about Casanova's years as a musician. Had they already happened for him? Did he already burn his bridges, on the verge of being imprisoned, then exiled. Or was he still new, everything ahead of him? Still defining himself, still coming to terms with his own curious blend of touching morality and shameless debauchery? The gambler who would just as easily lie, cheat, and steal, as he could save the life of an innocent or rescue a lady in distress. A brilliant man with an incredible memory, and more than that, an incredible capacity for lust, and love, and above all observing and understanding the intricacies of the human condition. No wonder the Doctor had always considered him such a fascinating character.

They'd stumbled into the flat after a treacherous and breathtaking escape through the gorgeous wonderland that was Venice at night. Giac immediately began pouring the wine, in reverence for the fallen man, he explained in a grim tone. Fitz, of course, went directly for the lute, grabbing it and sitting on the shabby purple chaise longue to pick out a few notes. The Doctor smiled at him fondly.

"Always wanted one of these," Fitz said, casually improvising a simple, evocative melody. "Music store down the street from my old flat in London had a couple, and I'd come by in the afternoons to play until they kicked me out."

"A man is dead," Giac said darkly. "Tonight. He died just minutes before we found him. Still warm. And the two of you don't seem affected in the slightest."

Fitz and the Doctor exchanged a worried look. He kept playing, though. And bit his lip. A nervous habit of his.

"Giac..." Rocco began.

"No, I mean just look at them," Giac told Rocco harshly. "They seem more worried about the fact that I just brought it up than they were after stumbling across his still-warm corpse."

The Doctor sighed, sitting next to Giac. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "It's just... We've seen more death than you could possibly imagine."

Giac looked aghast.

"They're soldiers," Rocco said in an even tone. "I could tell right away."

"Yes, I suppose we are," the Doctor said. "In a way. We're travelers. We right wrongs, stop injustice, preserve history. And along the way, yes. We've taken lives. We've lost so many people we cared about. So maybe we've grown inured to death, because it seems to follow us everywhere. But we haven't forgotten, Giac. There's a horror loose in Venice. And before we go, I promise, we will make your city safe again."

Giac sighed. "I'm sorry. Perhaps I've judged you too harshly."

"Even good men can become accustomed to horror, Giac," Rocco said, standing up. "Did I ever tell you I was a soldier once?"

Giac looked at Rocco, tilting his head to the side curiously. "I didn't know. I suppose I played at living the life of an officer once, but I was never a soldier."

"We all have hidden depths, my friend," Rocco replied. "Even you."

"Especially you," the Doctor said, smiling and laying an arm across Giac's shoulder.

"It's late," Rocco said with a sigh. "And I think it's time I went to bed."

The Doctor stood up and gave Rocco a hug, which he returned with a startled laugh. "It's been such a pleasure meeting you, Rocco! You take such good care of him, don't you?"

Rocco pulled away, wearing a lopsided grin. "Yeah, well, someone's got to."

"No, no they don't," the Doctor said very seriously, laying a hand on his shoulder. "But you do anyway. I'm sure he's truly grateful."

He could sense Rocco blush, even with his dark skin. "Good night. It's been a pleasure meeting both of you. Please don't give him another chicken. Having one is bad enough, the fool refuses to let me cook it. Says it's his mascot."

They all laughed, and Fitz bade Rocco goodnight, continuing to pluck the lute absently.

And then there were three.

"I'll just get some more wine," Giac said, sounding suddenly nervous.

The Doctor joined Fitz on the chaise, and had a sudden urge to kiss him. So he did. A tender gesture, full of affection. Fitz finally stopped playing the lute.

Giac swallowed loudly and cleared his throat, joining them to place three glasses of dark red wine on the desk. The Doctor pulled away from Fitz, who gave him a rather longing look, and picked up the viola, blowing the dust away.

"You play?" the Doctor asked, already knowing the answer.

"Prefer the violin," Giac replied, then swallowed half his wine in a gulp.

The Doctor took out his handkerchief and carefully wiped the viola clean, checked that the bow as still in good shape, and started to tune. "Seems a shame to let such a lovely instrument go unused."

Giac shrugged. The Doctor gave him a charming smile, then began to play, a long complex melody, a deep, gorgeous sound, teasing and sensual. Fitz joined him, and it was wonderful. He always loved playing with Fitz. He started simple, soft, as though merely keeping the Doctor's notes company, but before long their music became a dance, giving and taking, passing along the tune from one to the other, complexity upon complexity, until it almost felt like making love.

As their little improvised song came to a slow end, the Doctor finally looked up at Giac and smiled. He was watching them, open-mouthed.

"That was beautiful," Giac whispered.

"We've played together many times," the Doctor said in a flirty tone that let him know it was more than music he and Fitz played.

"I've never…" Giac stammered. "I've never played the sort of music you play, I think."

The Doctor put down the viola and reached out his hand. "Would you like to join us?"

Giac nodded.

He kissed him, standing on his tiptoes to reach the taller man's lips. Giac hesitated, at first, as though unsure of himself, unsure of what he wanted. But when the Doctor ran his cool, wet tongue across his lips, Giac opened his mouth, and the Doctor slipped inside, tasting him, suddenly overcome with desire, running his hands over the other man's body, pulling off his red coat, tearing the buttons from the fine embroidered waistcoat. Wanting to feel Giac's human warmth against his skin.

The Doctor tumbled back onto the chaise, dragging Giac with him, into Fitz's arms. He turned to kiss him, Fitz, his love, who in the past year had awakened in him a desperate sort of lust the Doctor sometimes feared would one day burn them both to ashes.

Fitz accepted the kiss gratefully, with longing, nibbling the bottom of the Doctor's lip when he pulled away. And then Giac was kissing both of them, the three of them entangled in an endless caress, hands moving of their own accord, tearing clothes away, lost in each other.

The Doctor wanted them both desperately, wanted to feel them, to taste them, to touch their minds and their bodies, these beautiful humans who inspired him so much.

He pulled away, panting. "Giac," he said, unable to keep his voice from trembling. "Giac, there's something I need to tell you. If you want this, if you really want to join us."

Giac disentangled himself from Fitz's embrace, his breath harsh and ragged. "Go on. Tell me your big secret."

"I'm not like anyone you've ever met, Giac," he said, removing his shirt completely.

The Doctor took Giac's hand, placed it first on one side of his chest, then the other. Giac yanked his hand away as if burned.

"What?"

He smiled, and Fitz chukled, draping an arm casually against Giac's bare shoulders. "Trust me, mate, that's just the start," Fitz said, and nuzzled his neck, trailing a few kisses.

The Doctor cupped Giac's face, letting a finger linger casually against his temple. And he pushed, just a little, letting slip just the barest hint of his desire, of his admiration.

Giac gasped, and curved into his touch. "You're a mystic!" he whispered, sounding awed. "A true mystic..."

He laughed. "I suppose I am at that. But I promise I'll only see what you want me to. The part of you that opens up to my caress."

And then the Doctor removed the rest of Fitz's clothes, desperate for the familiar feel of his lover's skin, slipping into his mind with practiced ease. As usual, Fitz left himself completely open. Every flaw, and every strength, and everything in between, every fantasy, and fear. Everything that made him Fitz. No barriers, no secrets, just absolute trust. Such a rare gift, one he hoped he'd never lose. But knew inevitably that he would.

At the moment, whatever darkness his future held mattered very little as Giac kissed his neck, cautiously moved his hands over the Doctor's smooth body. Still so young, so inexperienced. He'd never played with boys, not yet, but the Doctor knew his future. Had read his memoirs many times. If he and Fitz were to be the first, they wouldn't be the last, and realizing he was about to introduce the one and only Giacoma Casanova to a whole new world of pleasures gave the Doctor a giddy thrill.

He turned away from both of them, standing up to remove the rest of his clothes. Then the Doctor reached out both hands and led them to the bed.

Fitz pushed him down playfully, running rough, guitar-calloused hands up and down his body. The Doctor moaned at the familiar sensation, curling into his touch like a cat. Giac kissed him, then Fitz kissed both of them, all three of them entangled until the Doctor could no longer tell which was which.

He touched their minds, both of them, was almost overwhelmed by the raw need, the desire. The lust they each felt for him, and for each other. The Doctor let himself go, in awe of their pleasure.

They took turns, at first. Taking him, penetrating him, one at a time, then both at once, Fitz's throbbing erection in his mouth, down his throat, tasting him as Giac thrust deep inside of him. Feeling two hot, moist tongues running up against his own erection, two men kissing each other and the tip of his cock at the same time, until he felt his body warm and glowing and released in an endless orgasm over their beatific faces. Lying between them, inside of Fitz, moving against his lover's body as Giac took him once more from behind, insatiable, ready to go again and again. Between both of their warm, sweat-slickened bodies, the Doctor lost himself completely. Lost track of time, lost track of who he was, lost track of everything except the rhythm of three bodies moving together as one. And it was beautiful, just what he needed after months of suffering under the ever-present dread of whatever the future held for him and Fitz and Compassion. The tangled knot of dark possibilities he'd sensed looming in their timelines.

For the first time in so very long, the Doctor existed only in the moment, from one caress to the next. One orgasm to the next. Eyes half closed, muttering in Gallifreyan when he managed to get any words out at all. And they were insatiable, both of them, all of them, again and again, until the first rays of dawn crept in through the window.

xxx

Wow, hot, right? Those three are such sluts! Heheheh… And an actual plot, too? Why yes, it's all written. I'll be revising and posting chapters for the rest of the week. Enjoy! And please tell me what you think.


	3. Chapter 3: Lust, Instinct, and Passion

Chapter 3: Lust, Instinct, and Passion

* * *

><p>The next morning, Fitz woke up with a bastard behind his eyes. The night had been a blur of booze, and lust, and sex. They'd gone through all of his condoms, and most of Giac's, and at some point close to dawn he had stirred from a sound sleep to find the Doctor getting shagged in the bed beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Muttering Giac's name over and over again. Insatiable prats.<p>

Fitz knew that shouldn't have bothered him. It wasn't the first time he'd watched the Doctor shag someone else, though at those times he'd at least been actively involved. Instead of feeling like some creepy voyeur, unable to look away but for some reason afraid of letting them know he was watching.

And he realized he was being an utter hypocrite. How many times had the Doctor watched him fall in love with some pretty bird? Without complaint. Shit, at the end of the day it was always the Doctor who helped him get over the inevitable heartbreak.

What a bloody complicated relationship... Still, it was better than what usually happened. Which was him fucking everything up by getting drunk and shagging some other girl, then lying about it, then getting caught, then promising to never do it again. Then doing it again. At least this way everything was out in the open.

He sighed and draped an arm over the sleeping form half-hidden under the blankets. It was Giac, he could tell instantly. Which meant the Doctor was nowhere to be found. Fine. Good. He knew how to deal with this. If Giac shagged the Doctor, then all he had to do was shag Giac, and then he wouldn't feel so... Not jealous, definitely not jealous. But something. Just not jealous. Because he refused to admit to that.

And he did rather fancy Giac. Of course, who wouldn't? Here was a bloke bloody famous for the mere act of shagging anything that moved. And he was damn good at it, too. So Fitz ran his hands over the other man's body, and Giac curled into his touch, still mostly asleep, and Fitz was just about to kiss him when he heard the door open.

The Doctor crept into the room and sat down on the bed, placing a tender kiss on Fitz's temple, oblivious, or unconcerned, that Fitz had been in the middle of seducing another bloke.

"Come on, sleepyhead," he said in that irritatingly cheerful voice he always had in the morning. "Chop chop, things to do. I've been investigating the disappearances that have plagued Venezia for several months now and—"

"Sod off," Fitz growled.

"Fitz!" the Doctor squeaked, sounding offended.

"It's too early to be so damn cheerful, Doc."

"It's not early at all!" the Doctor argued, placing a hand on Fitz's shoulder. "I've already had breakfast, investigated the scene of last night's mysterious attack, interviewed 12 Venetians who claim to have heard howling in the night—"

Fitz shrugged him away. "I mean it, sod off."

The Doctor swallowed, as though unsure what to say.

With a sigh, Fitz turned to face him. He really did look hurt. And part of Fitz recognized he was being completely unfair. That his reaction at the moment must seem incredibly out of character to the Doctor, who probably took for granted the fact the Fitz usually followed him around like some love-struck teenager.

But if anything, that thought only pissed Fitz off even more.

"Look, I mean it, all right?" he snapped, then forced himself to soften his tone. "I'm taking the day off. We'll meet up later, yeah?"

"As you wish," the Doctor replied, sounding absolutely crestfallen.

He left the room without another word. Great, now Fitz felt like a bastard who'd just kicked a puppy on top of everything else. To distract himself, he gave Giac a blowjob.

* * *

><p>Venice alone, during the bright, muggy day, seemed ready to crumble into the waters. A gloomy place. Beggars in the alleys, gondoliers shouting at each other. Filth in very corner. Chickens skittering every which way.<p>

That reminded him.

He sighed, and glanced at the indicator he had cobbled together earlier that morning in the TARDIS. Without Fitz. Which was fine, he told himself. That was fine. Solving a mystery in the most romantic city on Earth. Alone, because his best friend preferred to remain in bed with the most famous lover in the history of the human species.

Which was fine, he told himself. Perfectly understandable. To be expected, even. And anyway, he'd brought it on himself, as usual. The Doctor wasn't stupid. Nor was he entirely naive. He realized he'd instigated the entire evening himself, acting rather unusually forward even for this incarnation, who so often let himself be led by lust, instinct, and passion. Rightly or wrongly.

It was his fault, because that evening he'd sensed a surprising possessiveness, even jealousy, in Fitz that had been truly surprising. Almost completely out of character for him, in fact. And the Doctor had shrugged it off because he was enjoying himself too much at the time to worry about the consequences. How predictable of him these days.

So here was his punishment. No Fitz. Wandering through Venice alone. Searching for a terrible predator from a distant star system that had somehow managed to get lost in one of his favorite cities on Earth.

He forced himself to focus on the task at hand. The creature had come from several galaxies away, and his blood chemistry and pheromones were like nothing else on the planet. In the water, it was difficult to track, but if he could figure out its hunting patterns, follow the tracks it had left from its nightly excursions through the alleys, then he could lie in wait until the evening. He could stop the creature, capture it, drop it back off on his home planet. And then maybe by tomorrow he and Fitz could catch a play, perhaps a nice commedia dell'arte. Enjoy a lovely candle lit meal overlooking the Piazza San Marco before heading back to the TARDIS, and off to whatever adventure awaited them next.

"But first thing first," he said aloud, and glanced back down at the tracker.


End file.
